


Creases in the Rain

by aviation



Category: The Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Fluff, M/M, anyway its not very good but, i wrote 3/4s of this at the doctors office, idk i imagine them being dead young in this, its just really fluffy lmao, like aotu era, this is way too fuckin short as well, u know - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7130165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aviation/pseuds/aviation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex stops breathing. Miles stops breathing. The entire world stops breathing. Alex thinks he is possibly in a coma and going to die soon.</p><p>And Miles is standing there, gaping at Alex, his mouth dangling open, opening and closing. Alex privately thinks his expression mirrors that of a goldfish and suppresses the urge to tell him to shut his mouth or he’ll catch flies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creases in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at the doctors office and its a bit shit tbh its actually so inaccurate i fucking swear
> 
> i based this like aotu era but read it how you want i guess ?

Alex maybe likes the cold.

Maybe, just maybe, all the years spent living in Sheffield brainwashed him into liking the cold. 

But he thinks it’s possibly more likely that it’s because Miles likes the cold.

Miles, on a particularly cold day, might beg Alex to go out on a walk with him, and Alex, God love him, doesn't have the heart to say no. He thinks it’s maybe the fact that Miles has permanent droopy puppy dog eyes.

Snowy days are undebatably the best kind of cold days. Alex anticipates them. He grins when he sees today is one.

He thinks it’s probably around noon, quite possibly a Tuesday, and almost definitely November when Miles phones Alex and informs him they’re going a walk before promptly hanging up.

Alex doesn’t mind. 

Miles shows up fifteen minutes later at the door adorning an incredibly heavy looking military style coat. “Mister Turner,” Miles says in mock formality, before offering his arm.

Alex laughs. He doesn’t know why. “Mister Kane,” he grins, taking his arm and slamming the door behind him.

Alex doesn’t mind when their arms slip lower and lower until they’re just holding hands instead. Mikes’ hands are not soft, but coarse and clumsy. Again, he couldn’t care less.

“Is this a date, Mister Kane?” Alex quips. “Taking me on a walk and holding my hand. Very romantic. Very smooth.”

Miles rolls his eyes. He doesn’t say anything on the matter.

They walk in comfortable silence for a while, until Miles cuts through the quiet. “Your lips are blue.”

“Oh. Are they?” Alex says, touching his mouth. He pauses. “Maybe you should warm them up.”

“What?” Miles raises an eyebrow.

“I’m telling you to kiss me, you wanker.”

As he speaks the words, he feels heat spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Except they are not words.

They are his fate, masquerading as words.

Alex stops breathing. Miles stops breathing. The old lady walking her dog across the road stops breathing. In fact, the entire universe has stopped breathing. Alex thinks he is possibly in a coma and going to die soon.

And Miles is standing there, gaping at Alex, his mouth dangling open, opening and closing. Alex privately thinks his expression mirrors that of a goldfish and suppresses the mum-like urge to tell him to shut his mouth or he’ll catch flies.

Miles points an accusing finger at Alex, once he’s regained his grip on reality. He swallows roughly, as if the saliva in his throat burns like acid.

Alex waits for the hard rejection. “Sorry, Alex,” he’ll say, “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’ve contracted a fatal disease and simply can’t put you at risk.” Or maybe he’ll be more straightforward. “Sorry, I’m afraid you’re an ugly cunt, I’m straight, and I’m going to never talk to you again.”

The real Miles is now steadying himself and shakily breathing. “I cannot fuckin’ believe,” Miles starts, “you made the first move. I had a whole fuckin’ confession planned out, you dickhead, oh my god, I’ve planned it for months-”

This is where their roles switch and it’s Alex’s turn to stand agape and slightly confused.

Of all the things he expected to come out of Miles’ mouth, this was pretty far from any of them.

“I can’t tell whether you’re angry at me or not.”

“Of course I’m bloody angry,” Miles declares, before fitting his mouth to Alex’s. 

Alex comes to the conclusion that Miles is, in fact, lying.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on instagram: instagram.com/portugueseknifefight


End file.
